winds esker               
  
                                          
 there was this  place that for two years 
 i couldn't  go to.  regardless  how much 
 discussed with others,  or  pointed  out 
 on maps, i could  not  think of it  when 
 alone.  i  would often travel  past  the 
 fork, where  a  right turn  would surely 
 take me there, but even  then, something 
               kept me away.              
                                          
 when i  finally  got there,  after  some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,   the  place   was  surreal.  an 
 esker,  like  a needle-thin  rift out in 
 the   lake,  but  ten  meters  high  and 
 adorned in birch,  willow, bracken,  and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice  the view to either  side.  there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't recognize  them. first  off, they 
 were much too close, as the  lake should 
 stretch for  a  hundred meters  more  on 
 both  sides.  but  now  i  felt i  could 
 almost  reach out  and touch  them.  and 
 then,  when i realized which shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they  were  of the  right lake. but this 
      lake is large, fractured, and       
 bipartite. like a pair  of lungs  carved 
 into the granite, and with no less  than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
    impossibly close shores, i slowly     
 understood them as  belonging many miles 
                  away.                   
                                          
 i   examined  the  ridge,  the  treeline 
 above.  was this  what you saw opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                remember.                 
                                          
 carrying forward,  on  the  very  tip of 
 the esker,  i found  the  ruins  of some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
 marble staircases, stone floors beneath  
 the moss,  and  strange  slabs  inserted 
 into  the slope  like dams  against  the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting there,  i could  see  across the 
 narrowed lake my  entire path to where i 
 sat:  from the  stairwell  of my  house, 
 through  the  old woods  behind the tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and  then  back under  it, 
 through  the   fancy  villas,  over  the 
 fields, and then that right turn at  the 
                   fork.                  
                                          
 and  then the stairs  up  on  the ridge. 
 thinking  back,  this  was probably  it. 
 hidden in  a  grove,  there  were stairs 
 much like  the ones  i currently sat on, 
 old and  worn  down,  that  lead  you up 
 onto the esker.  the point of entry. had 
 i insted  opted to walk the  path at its 
 foot,  i'm sure  my experience  would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on  the  lake,  there  were   people  in 
 boats.  i wondered, could they  even see 
 me?  if  i shouted, would they  turn  to 
         stare right through me?